“Dead! What is there gloomy about that?” she asked, almost merrily.
But he rose to go:
“You frighten me,” he said, jestingly. “I must be going home; I have a lot to do still. So we see you to-morrow?”
“Thanks, yes: to-morrow.”
He took her hand; and she struck a little silver gong, for him to be let out. He stood looking at her a moment longer, with a smile in his beard:
“Yes, you’re a funny girl, and yet ... and yet we all like you!” he repeated, as if he wished to excuse himself in his own eyes for this affection.
And he stooped and kissed her on the forehead: he was so much older than she.
“I am very glad that you all like me,” she said. “Till to-morrow, then. Good-bye.”